The DETERMINED spiral

Chapter 1: Emergence

Description: What if upon Frisk and monster company descending the mountain they met seven robed humans? What if their happy ending was to be snatched away? What if the first people to truly care for Frisk were about to be killed before their eyes? What if Frisk REFUSED.

Or: At what point does Determination evolve into Spiral Power?

Frisk was happy. Truly happy, for the first time in a long time. Of course it couldn't last. Papyrus was the first to spot them, having run ahead into the forest, eager as ever to make new friends. "HELLO, HUMANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS AM PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE!" They all were hurrying along now, hoping to keep the skeleton from frightening the first humans monsterkind made contact with, when a gruff voice replied. "Likewise, monster, I am pleased to kill you!" Sans, who was right next to them, was suddenly gone with a bright flash of blue while Mom gasped. As soon as they realized what they heard, Frisk broke into a dead sprint, but before they got ten feet a series of cracks rang out, 'Gunshots…' They thought, and poured on as much speed as the ten year-old legs could give. Still Asgore passed them, Undyne right behind him, Mettaton trailing last.

Frisk could hear Mom shouting for them to come back, but… it just didn't seem to register. Finally they burst out of the foliage, onto asphalt. They stopped and panted for a moment, then looked up, and froze. There was a man lying on the ground a few feet away from them, glowing bones jutting out his back, his eyes blank. Ahead of them there were cars on the road, armored cars, with guns on them. Papyrus was being held at gunpoint by four different men, Sans standing off to one side with his hand held palm up in the air. More were coming out of the cars and training their weapons on the other monsters. "What is the meaning of this, humans?!" Asgore boomed.

"You know very well what this is monster."

The gun-toters slowly parted way to reveal seven humans in long billowing robes, their faces shadowed by hoods. What struck Frisk was that each robe was a different color, the seven SOUL colors. 'Mages.' For a moment no one moved, then Asgore's eyes narrowed, "We will take death over imprisonment again." The one in the red hood smiled, a cruel smile, "How lucky for you, that that is all we offer today." As one the Mages raised their hands, now glowing the color of their robes with flecks of black, and at that moment something in Frisk broke at the sight of their new family's end.

… …

Nothing vital, of course, only a glass-ceiling!

*FWWOOOSHH*

With a blast Frisk was engulfed in flame, a swirling pillar of light and power, the edges colored with the red of their own soul and the core the white of a monster's. The humans were bowled over by the force of the initial flare, several of the closer vehicles flipped clear onto their sides, while the monsters where buffeted by wind but held their ground.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"

Frisk barely recognized their own voice, but they didn't care. This… whatever it was surrounding them-filling them-raising them up, was far more intense than the boost the SAVE stars gave their Determination. It was less like drive to achieve something, more like daring something to stop them. A certainty that come hell or high-water, they would succeed. There was no 'or', nor 'try again', they'd do it, and do it right. "What...! What is this?!" Their eyes focused on the mages, cowering before them.

'And what I need to do… what I need to do is get rid of them.'

Frisk had no experience with fights other than dodging, but they had watched the monsters that attacked them, from Asgore to Frogits. And this power… it was wild and eager, but it didn't feel uncooperative, like they'd have to wrestle it to get it to work. But still, they started small, extending their arm they made a fist. The red-white fire followed their movements, but didn't stop there, the flames coalescing into an almost solid form, more like a gauntlet. It was ornate with swirling patterns that reminded at once of the sea, and somehow, the night sky.

But it's looks were unimportant in it's purpose.

Frisk widened their stance and reared their arm back, the construct following their motion, casting the mages in it's shadow.

Then they brought it down.

*BOOOOMMM*

Frisk felt the impact reverberate up their feet, but also through their arm, as if they'd punched the ground themself. A large dust cloud had been kicked up so they couldn't see the result of their attack, but somehow Frisk felt it wasn't over. A feeling justified by the burst of cyan light and shout of, "Die, heathen!" from their left. The mage was-'How'd he get there?!'-close but nowhere near as fast as Undyne's spears, but unlike usual, Frisk rolled under and towards the source of the attack. The robed human yelped and fell back at their approach, as the rolling did nothing to put out the flames covering them. Frisk came out of the tumble on one knee and extended their arm again (a move straight from one of Alphs' animes), the flames following like a current. Their strike hit dead-on, sending the mage flying from the ground to slam into one of the flipped cars, embedding them in the undercarriage with a sound of rending metal.

Looking around Frisk saw that during this the monsters were not idle, Asgore had locked blades with the aqua mage, their conjured sword failing to get past his trident's guard. Undyne had pinned all but three gunmen in place with her spears, not by magic either, but piercing their flesh. Sans and Papyrus were firing bones at the remaining mages not far from where Frisk's gauntlet had nearly crushed them, the orange mage shooting back with a glowing gun. Mettaton seemed content to act as a shield to Alphies, but his eyes were focused on the battles in front of him, ready to jump in should he be needed.

*ZAANNG* "UHNG!" Frisk wipped around at the sound of a pained grunt. 'That was MOM!' The boss-monster was doubled-over clutching her gut… but she wasn't turning to dust, why-"What…?" The red mage stood, as if in a daze, in the middle of the battle field a fading glow around his hands, "I-it's not, not turning to dust! Why isn't it dying?!" The mage was right, as the others turned to Toriel, she was standing up, a ragged hole burned in her dress but she herself alive and looking quite surprised by it.

Frisk let out a shaky breath of relief, then the fact that someone had hurt their mother got through to them.

*BANG* The flames flared again. Frisk's eyes, so rarely fully open, glowed and glared at the red mage. The man flinched at the look and turned to run, but it was too late. Frisk reached with both arms, guiding their power to snatch the mage off his feet. They wasted no time, no mercy on this demon who'd hurt their family, and began to squeeze.

…

…

…

At least that was the plan, but just as they began to clench their hands together, a thought passed through their head, 'Is this something The Great Papyrus would do?' They yelped and brought their hands apart, staring at them like they'd never seen them before. The mage dropped from the air, forgotten. As it was from some height when he landed he very clearly broke one of his legs. Suddenly his screams were the only thing Frisk could hear, then as well the screeching of metal and the thud of a massive impact. 'How many times have I tried to kill in the last few minutes, when I didn't hurt anyone in the Underground.'

Like poison, that thought would have spread, creeping and cloying through their mind and soul, with anyone else it would have. But then Frisk remembered, their eyes shining brighter with realization, 'He… he would, to protect his friends.' They looked around, the monsters had subdued the last of the gunmen and the mages were unconscious. They heard sirens approaching from down the road, 'Someone must have seen the flames.' Frisk mused sleepily. They swayed on their feet, but before they could collapse, two strong furry arms scooped them up into a gentle hold.

They drifted off to the sight of police staring in awe and fear at the sight before them, but none drew their weapons, though the man that approached kept his hand on his gun, speaking calmly. Frisk desperately wanted to go and help explain, but, they just kept yawning.

'Maybe, I can just rest my eyes a while…'